


Sharp Knife (of a Short Life)

by lydiamartenism



Series: Magic Moments [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Call the Midwife, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Call the Midwife AU, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:28:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22204849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lydiamartenism/pseuds/lydiamartenism
Summary: In the years Sansa had been at Maegor House, she’d hardly taken a break and she most definitely hadn’t gone home, but now she was on a train headed North for no reason she could be joyful about.Her big brother was dead. Killed in some freak accident on his honeymoon along with his new wife, Talisa.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Series: Magic Moments [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/367004
Comments: 7
Kudos: 24





	Sharp Knife (of a Short Life)

In the years Sansa had been at Maegor House, she’d hardly taken a break and she most definitely hadn’t gone home, but now she was on a train headed North for no reason she could be joyful about.

Her big brother was dead. Killed in some freak accident on his honeymoon along with his new wife, Talisa. 

She leaned against the window in her car, watching the English countryside fly by. She hadn’t seen most of her family since she left to become a nurse, almost four years ago at this point, except for one visit from her little sister, Arya, two years ago when she was running from pressures to give into an engagement like Sansa had before her. 

Once upon a time Sansa and Robb had been close. Before he went off to university and Father truly took him under his wing to teach him about becoming the next Lord Stark and the family business. Before Robb decided his fifteen-year old sister was annoying and no longer as interesting as the young ladies fawning over him.

He’d been ashamed of her when she’d run from her engagement to go to nursing school. It wasn’t until their father died a year later that her brother spoke to her, but despite it she’d never lost love for her brother. He’d been her protector growing up. He’d been her first companion and always played tea party with her whenever she asked. He was always the knight to her damsel in distress. 

Robb was by no means a perfect brother or son, but his passing was painful nonetheless for Sansa. 

She sniffles and wipes tears from her cheeks. She had to be strong. Strong like porcelain or ivory or steel. Strong unlike the 18 year old who had left Winterfell all those years ago. 

She watched trees fly by, remembering falls and summers running with her siblings through the forest surrounding the estate. She settled in for the remainder of the long train ride north.

At the train station, she’s greeted by Arya and their youngest brother, Rickon, who is sniffling and tears staining his cheeks. He was always a little more wild than his siblings, less able to reign in his emotions. The only sign of Arya’s grief was red-rimmed eyes.

She hugs both, Rickon takes her suitcase, and all three head to the car. She greets Podrick, their chauffeur, and Brienne, her mother’s head of house, and they pile into the car to head to Winterfell.

The ride is somber. No one willing to say much for fear of emotion boiling over.

Catelyn Stark stands outside, looking as elegant and regal as ever despite circumstances, waiting for her three children and Bran is seated in his wheelchair beside her. She greets both with kisses to the cheek and soft words. She lets her mother hold her tightly for several moments longer than she normally would. She can hardly begrudge her that at a time like this. 

The two days leading up to the funeral are odd. Nothing feels right. She half expects for Robb to barge into the house, all boisterous laughter and too big a personality, but he doesn’t and every time it doesn’t happen her stomach sinks and she feels the loss so acutely.

The day of the funeral Sansa takes her place beside her mother. She can hardly believe she’s the eldest Stark sibling now and that the estate is now to pass to Bran. It all seems wrong. She hardly registers things past the black netting attached to her fascinator, but she can’t help but notice the black curls and the white collar across from her. 

Her family was Catholic, so she knew he wasn’t here in a professional capacity and surely the girls hadn’t sent him to comfort her.

She doesn’t have time to think more on it or confront him until the funeral party moved back to the house.

He finds her before she can find him. She’s standing beside the stairs, sipping on yet another cup of tea and shifting from foot to foot in her black heels, one hand smoothing over the black circle skirt of her dress. She always hated the all black at funerals, it only made her auburn hair standout more. 

“Nurse Stark,” he says simply.

“Reverend Snow,” she says, “What a surprise to run into you here.” 

There’s no reason she can think of for him to be at Winterfell. It’s secluded from the town. 

“Not that much. We are both Northerners after all.”

She hums her agreement, “As true as that may be, I have not been able to fathom a reason for you to be at my brother’s funeral.” 

“Honestly? I didn’t even put together Robb was your brother until I got here. Even though obviously I knew your last name…” his cheeks go pink with embarrassment.

Sansa nods and sips from her teacup, “I see...so how do, well, did you know my brother?”

“University. We played on the same footie team,” he tells her.

“Oh...that, that makes sense. Robb didn’t talk much about university…” 

Jon nods, “Yes, but your brother used to talk about his siblings all the time. How crazy it was growing up as one of five.” 

Sansa looks down at her heels, “Yeah. It could get a little crazy around here when we were young, but mum was always making it seem less crazy. Make it seem like...no problem. Not like it seems for some of the families in Poplar…”

Jon nods, “I imagine it’s a little easier when resources are easier to acquire.”

Sansa nods her head. She shifts a little, “Yeah. It’s...part of why I love what I do. Why I love helping these families as much as I can…”

He nods and quiet passes between them. She sips tea and he shifts awkwardly. 

She isn’t sure what to say to him. She wants to know more about his time at university with her brother. She can’t possibly ask any of that though. They weren’t close like that. They weren’t...friends. Only acquaintances despite her...complicated feelings about him. 

She takes in a deep breath, “Well, it means a lot that you came all this way to pay your respects to my brother…”

Jon gives her a gentle smile, “It's the least I could do. He was...the closest thing I had to a best friend despite us not staying in the best of touch after university…” 

She nods and bites the inside of her cheek, “I know he would have appreciated it…” She steps forward and places a gentle kiss on his cheek, “I appreciate it….” she glances over her shoulder, “I should go check on my mum. Have...have a safe trip back to Poplar…”

Sansa heads over to where her mother is talking to many of the mothers of her friends from when she was younger. She can feel Jon’s eyes on her for the rest of the reception and she figures he must have slipped out quietly as he isn’t in the procession of people leaving at the end of the night. 

She feels disappointment in the pit of her stomach. 

When she boards the train two days later, she finds her mind filled with thoughts of grey eyes and gentle words and a comforting presence instead of her family’s most recent tragedy.


End file.
